


bleed well the soul you're about to sell

by joyyjpg



Category: Being Human (US/Canada)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, F/M, Vampires, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyyjpg/pseuds/joyyjpg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A voice in the back of her mind tells her she'll never come back from this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	bleed well the soul you're about to sell

**Author's Note:**

> written way back during season one and posted on lj [here](http://joyyjpg.livejournal.com/187758.html).

She feels no shame as she stumbles like a drunk through the door of the funeral parlor. She doesn't feel anything that isn't _hunger_ or _want_ or _need_. It overwhelms everything else – any sense of guilt or regret, the feeling that she should go back now, back to Aidan before it's too late. 

_Aidan can't help you._

A voice in the back of her mind tells her she'll never come back from this but she barely hears it over the sound of hearts beating, of blood rushing through veins. Maybe she never wants to come back.

_He left you._

There's another voice and it takes a second to register that it isn't her own. She remembers waking up, confused and terrified, a bittersweet tang on her tongue, and she never imagined she'd end up back here, in this room with _him_. She should be afraid of him but she doesn't know why anymore, only knows his mouth on hers, his hands trailing down her sides, across her stomach, between her legs. His touch burns and she wants _more_ , reaching and pulling and clawing until there isn't an inch of space between them.

Everything happens fast and it's better that way because she can't think. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs, rolls her hips up against his as he pushes inside. She wraps her legs around his waist, licking and biting along his jaw.

His breath is hot on her throat and she knows it's coming, leans her head back against the wall, baring her neck, and waits.

He's everything Aidan isn't – Aidan had been desperate, wild, tearing in like an animal that hasn't eaten in years, but his guilt always managed to shine through. There's none of that here. Bishop is perfectly in control and when his teeth sink in it's slow and practiced. The blood rushes to the gash, into his mouth as he starts to suck slowly, almost teasing, and she nearly comes on the spot.

She doesn't share his patience. She bites into the curve of his neck – flesh breaking, warmth flooding her senses. He tastes completely different than Aidan, _better_. Bishop's blood is dark and rich and ancient – and familiar. The first thing she remembers after waking up is the taste, not just the blood itself but something she hasn't found in anyone else until now and she _knows_. He made her this way. 

She drinks him down, sloppy and eager, feels it seep down her throat, drip down her chin. His mouth moves lower, ripping her open again; his hips snap upward, slamming hers into the wall, and she moans around a mouthful of his blood, dips her tongue into the wound.

All of her senses are in overdrive – all she can taste or smell or _feel_ is him. Everything inside her is lit up, burning and screaming: _yes, more_. She laps up the blood that streaks down his chest, feels her own blood trickling down her body, his hands smearing what his tongue can't reach. He licks his way back up to her mouth and she pushes in, tasting herself on him, tasting _them_. His teeth pierce her lip and they swap the blood like spit. Her nails dig into his back, taking him deeper, harder, until it's finally too much and she comes with a scream.

He's not far behind; he lets out a low growl and bites down on her shoulder, presses his tongue to the fresh wound. She doesn't let go, not yet. She licks and sucks every red patch of skin like she's still hungry, like she can't get enough of the taste, _his_ taste.

He smiles – the same smile he'd been wearing that first night, but she can't remember why she was ever afraid.

 _You can't come back from this_ , a voice says and it almost sounds like Aidan. She doesn't care anymore.


End file.
